


tonight you're perfect

by nightquills



Series: it’s our time now (if you want it to be) [5]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: (both Jean and Marco are legal though so it's not underage), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 15:37:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7058596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightquills/pseuds/nightquills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s two AM, and Jean is surrounded by more than a few empty beer cans. He may have to admit that, in some shape or form, he may be something akin to drunk. But hey, at least Marco is no better off than he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tonight you're perfect

**Author's Note:**

> You know what I should be doing? Studying for finals. Do you want to know what I'm not really doing? 
> 
> You guessed it: studying for finals. 
> 
> Anyways, here's a little thing I wrote. It was kind of inspired by [a headcanon I wrote](http://jeanmarcoheadcanon.tumblr.com/post/102466782714/31-there-have-been-more-than-a-few-occasions) way back when for the JM headcanon blog I run. 
> 
> This story's title is taken from [a New Politics song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7L4ZyZMZbnA) and I'd like to give thanks to [my lovely bae-ta](http://aro-ackermans.tumblr.com/), who, as always, supported me in my more questionable writing pursuits. Bless.

It’s two AM, and Jean is surrounded by more than a few empty beer cans. He may have to admit that, in some shape or form, he may be something akin to drunk. But hey, at least Marco is no better off than he is. 

Jean and Marco have long since stopped paying any semblance of attention to the movie droning on in the TV behind them. 

Instead, they’re both laughing so hard at something Marco said that they’re legitimately close to tears. Jean isn’t even sure anymore what Marco had said in the first place that was so funny, but the two of them have reached that point in the night where literally anything can set them off into peals of laughter. 

Jean is smiling so widely that his cheeks ache, and there’s the beginnings of a stitch in his side from the way his laughter shakes his abdominal muscles. 

He figures that they must make quite the picture at the moment. Marco’s cheeks have taken on a noticeably pink hue, and Jean is sure that his own cheeks look similar. Jean can feel the perspiration gathering on his forehead and the back of his neck. 

When they finally subside into gasps and scattered giggles, Jean finds himself staring avidly at Marco’s face. His eyes trace the lines of Marco’s lips, still stretched in a grin, the brightness of his eyes, and finally come to rest upon the many freckles that lie on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. They’re like little stars, and Jean has the sudden urge to draw lines between them and make his own constellations. 

“Hey, Marco, wanna play connect the dots?”

“Mhmmm… Sure, I guess. Where are we gonna play, though?

“Right here, of course. Gimme a sec,” Jean says as he staggers to his feet. Upon standing, he has a moment of dizziness, blood rushing to his head, and he almost tips back over onto the couch. 

Ignoring Marco’s wheezing laughter at his near-miss, Jean walks over to his desk in the other room and tugs open the bottom drawer. It takes him a moment of shuffling the drawer’s contents around, but eventually he finds one of those giant packs of Sharpies that his mom had given him way back in his freshman year. 

Sharpies in hand, he stumbles his way back to the living room. Upon returning to the couch, he plops himself back upon it. 

Marco says, “Y’know, that really doesn’t answer my question of where we’re gonna play.” 

Jean sticks out his tongue and grabs a marker from the pack, then holding it out to Marco for him to choose his own color.

Marco shrugs and picks a red marker, looking at Jean expectantly. 

Jean uncaps his marker and reaches out to grab Marco’s left arm. He pulls it closer to him and then draws a line between two of the freckles on Marco’s hand. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Marco groans, but it looks like he’s barely restraining himself from laughing. 

Jean has no such constraints. He chortles freely, laughing even harder when he sees Marco scrunch up his face at him. “I’m super serious right now. Deadly serious. As serious as the bubonic plague.” 

“That’s very serious, Jean. Especially considering how drunk you are.” 

“Okay, just because I’m drunk doesn’t mean that I can’t be serious. In fact, I am... I am a very serious drunk,” Jean says, but his message is ruined by the fact that he can barely get the words out before succumbing to laughter… Which sets the both of them off again. 

“S-super serious,” Marco manages to crack out between bursts of laughter.

When they’re able to calm themselves down again, Jean scoots closer to Marco on the couch and raises his marker purposefully. 

Marco consents with a nod, and so Jean continues from where he left off on Marco’s skin. Marco makes sure to keep his arm steady--or as steady as he can, considering his inhibited motor skills at the moment--as he hauls one of his legs up onto the couch beside him, pushing up the hem of his shorts so that he can start connecting the freckles on his leg into a vaguely flower-like shape. 

“This is so ridiculous,” Marco says, but soon enough he’s gesturing to Jean to pass over the pack of Sharpies so that he can start coloring in the flower he’s drawn.

Jean does so and then devotes his focus to putting the finishing touches on his recreation of Ursa Major, complete with a drawing in a lighter color around the edges of the freckles to show the actual figure of the bear. 

Then Jean decides that he should make his own original works, so he moves farther up Marco’s arm to do it. He draws a woman with a crown, a warrior jumping with blades raised above him, a frightening toothy grin. 

He’s starting a new drawing near Marco’s shoulder when there’s a loud explosion from the movie they’d abandoned, and the combination of Jean jerking his hand and Marco jumping in his seat means that now there’s a wild and unplanned line running across Marco’s upper arm. 

“Well, shit. That’s definitely fucked,” Jean says, staring at the mark kind of absently.

“Sorry, sorry,” Marco apologizes, reaching over to turn off the TV so that they don’t get startled a second time. 

“Not your fault, no worries, it’s all good. Not like there’s a shortage of freckles to choose from, huh?” Just for some background noise, Jean pulls out his phone and finds a mellow album to play. 

“Yeah, you can say that again,” Marco says. He goes back to drawing on his own leg, where he’s finished his flower and is instead just connecting all the freckles that he can. 

Jean shrugs and decides to do the same thing, making little zig-zags between the remaining freckles on Marco’s arm. The result is that Marco ends up with what looks like a poorly done tattoo sleeve. “If these were like, real tattoos,” Jean remarks, “I would totally ask for a refund.”

“Am I allowed to ask for a refund even though they’re fake?” 

“Okay, firstly. Like, you didn’t even pay me for this in the first place. This ink is a gift, a-and you should be grateful. Second. I’m a college student, if you’d forgotten, and I’m more or less broke.” 

“And who said I was asking for money, huh?” Marco asks, smirking in a particular way that Jean knows the exact meaning of.

“Well, I guess that maybe another form of payment could possibly, uh, be arranged,” Jean relents as he caps his marker, puts it back in the container, and promptly shoves the container off the side of the couch so that he can climb over onto Marco’s lap.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading... whatever this nonsense was. I hope it was enjoyable and at least a little bit amusing. 
> 
> If you ever want to bother me, please feel free to drop me a line on [my tumblr](http://nightquills.tumblr.com/).


End file.
